After the Graveyard
by starkittenlunamoon
Summary: Harry just witnessed Lord Voldemort return to power and he appears back at Hogwarts gravely injured from that night. He is sent to stay with Sirius at headquarters to heal with many bumps along the way. Mostly canon. no slash. I'm terrible at summaries so please give this a chance. It's my first fic.Rated T for slight gore in the beginning
1. Chapter 1

This takes place right after Harry and Cedric touch the triwizard cup/porkey and enter the graveyard. I will make this as canon as possible. This is my first fic so be nice please!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. All of that belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling. Some parts of this fic may be taken directly from the book. I by no means intend to plagiarize. Some things are just too good to make any changes to.

Chapter 1: The graveyard

Harry felt the familiar pull from behind his navel, and not a second later did his feet hit the ground, before he collapsed from the force he hit the earth and the injury to his leg. Taking only a moment to catch his breath, he took in his surroundings including Cedric already on his feet. Where ever they were was very dark and had an eerie feel to it. Fog rolled in around their ankles and the only sound to be heard was his own heartbeat pulsating in his ears.

"Are you alright?" Cedric asked as he helped Harry to his feet. "Did you know there was another part of this task besides the maze?"

"No," Harry replied with a horrible sense of foreboding flooding his mind. It seemed to be a type of graveyard. Tombstones sticking from the soil circled them, along with an old house visible about half a mile away. The more he looked around the deserted place, his scar began to prickle more and more. "We should get back to the cup," he declared knowing that something was wrong. This couldn't be right.

Through the fog, a figure appeared to be walking toward them. Something about the way he walked looked familiar to Harry, but he didn't care to ponder the possibilities at this moment. They needed to get out of here.

Cedric, seeing the approaching figure as well, nodded his head in agreement. Cedric knew Harry couldn't run for it because of his leg, so he draped the smaller boy's arm around his shoulders to help him back to the cup as quickly as possible.

"Kill the spare!" a raspy yet high pitch voice screeched.

"Avada Kedavra" another bellowed.

Harry has seen that green light before. In the split second that it all happened, he was able to understand what just occurred but did not accept it. Cedric dropped to the ground in a heap bringing Harry with him. Cedric was dead.

"NO CEDRIC!" Harry yelled in defeat and pain.

The person who yelled the killing curse made his way toward Harry swiftly. He seemed to be carrying a bundle of some sorts. It looked almost like a child swaddled in many blankets. He was a stubby man who very much resembled a rat. The injured boy made the connection almost instantly. Peter Pettigrew. All of the memories from almost exactly a year ago ran through is mind. Wormtail betrayed his parents and joined Voldemort. Harry told Sirius and Remus not to kill him that night in the Shrieking Shack because he wanted Peter to go to the dementors. The little traitorous rat escaped right through their fingers, and now here they are.

Wormtail placed the bundle on the ground next to what appeared to be a tremendous cauldron that could probably fit a grown man. He grabbed Harry's upper arm with a surprisingly forceful grip for a man of his size and cowardice. The spider bitten leg protested as it was dragged along to the largest tombstone in the entire cemetery. The stone read

 **Tom Riddle**

Even with all the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the injuries he already sustained from the maze, the shock he was in, and the fact that he is a 14 year old boy, all worked against him as Wormtail slammed his back into the tombstone and conjured ropes to bind him there. Wormtail tested the bonds to ensure that they were tight enough and that they were indeed. Harry could not move an inch.

Harry's mind was racing to the point that it was rendered useless. How did he get in this position and is it possible to get out? The latter was unlikely. _Cedric is dead._ He repeated that over and over in his brain unable to grasp that information. _Cedric is dead. I'm in a graveyard. Think of something. Anything._ He was silently pleading with his head to think of something to get him out of this predicament, but nothing came to mind. Fear was all he felt, until his scar erupted. Never had it burned, stung, stabbed, ripped open like this before. Harry was blinded with pain. He would have done anything in this moment to make it stop, or make it all end. He was completely unaware that he was outright screaming into the night.

Wormtail stood anxiously in front of the bound boy and began. With a flick of his wand a fire lit under the cauldron and the bundle on the ground was stirring persistently as if trying to free itself. The liquid in the cauldron began to boil. The scar on Harry's forehead subsided enough for him to end the screaming causing damage to his throat and even enough to open his eyes. He noticed the bundle moving ahead and even though he had no inkling as to what was in those blankets, he knew that he didn't want to see. From the distance an extremely large snake slithered through the floor of the cemetery. There was too much happening at once; Harry didn't know which to be more afraid of.

The stubby man turned from the boy to look at the cauldron which was now emitting sparks and steam with the snake circling around it. "It is ready master," Wormtail announced.

"Now!" the high pitched voice screeched from the ground. Wormtail scurried over to the bundle and pulled open what now appeared to be robes. What was inside was so heinous, that Harry looked away. The thing in the bundle had the shape of a human child, except Harry had never seen anything less child-like in his life. It was skeletal, raw, and almost translucent. Its body was horrendous enough, but that face. He had never seen a face like that. It resembled a snake with piercing red eyes. Wormtail scooped the ugly thing from the ground. Harry could see the fear in Wormtail's eyes. He looked torn and hesitant. Like whatever he was about to do even he did not want, yet he continued. He lowered the snake- child into the cauldron. The thud signified that it hit the bottom of the cauldron.

 _Please let it drown.. Merlin please let it drown,_ Harry silently prayed.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" Wormtail chanted. The surface of the grave by Harry's feet cracked. A wisp of dust flew out of the grave with the wave of Wormtail's wand, and was commanded to drop into the bubbling cauldron. The boiling liquid hissed and turned royal blue.

The fear that Harry sensed on the rat's face now intensified tenfold. He looked as if he was having an inner struggle in his head whether he should run away or not. He slid out a sharp silver dagger from the inside of his robes. It gleamed in the moonlight showing off its razor edges.

"Flesh - of the servant – w-willing given – you will – revive – your master," Wormtail sobbed. He raised his right hand which also contained the missing finger over the cauldron. With one shaky swing, he removed the arm from his body. Harry saw what was happening and closed his eyes unable to take the gruesome attack the rat took on himself, yet was still able to hear the sickening splash when the limb dropped into the cauldron. Wormtail's howls pierced the night. He fell to the ground cradling his stump of an arm. The potion now turned blood red.

When Harry opened his eyes again, Wormtail was standing up shakily and making his way towards him. Harry could do nothing but stand there, tied to the stone and watch with no idea what was about to happen. Even if he did know what was to occur, there was nothing he could do about it.

"Blood of the enemy… forcibly taken.. you will resurrect your foe!" Unable to move Harry turned his head just in time so he did not have to see the gleaming dagger slicing through his inner right forearm. The pain was sharp and hot but he did not scream. If there was one thing he could control, it would be his own voice. Warm blood dripped from the long cut. Wormtail took a flask from his robes and held it to the wound collecting the scarlet blood seeping out with the rhythm of Harry's beating heart. He waddled over to the cauldron to again add the new ingredient. As the blood was dripped into the bubbling cauldron it instantly turned a blinding white. The next thing Harry did not expect at all and it happened simultaneously. The liquid was now sending larger sparks in all directions. Harry's head exploded with the same pain in his scar as it did when he was first tied to the tombstone. Wormtail dipped his dagger into the potion so that it was completely covered and dripping in the white liquid. He made his way once again over to where Harry was bound and unable to contain screams and plunged the dagger into the same cut he previously created. From the penetration point of the knife, tiny black snakes crawled under the skin of the boy's arm. They slithered around until they made the shape of a black skull with a snake through it. The dark mark.

Harry could not mind any attention to his arm since his head erupted; but this time it truly did erupt. The lightning bolt scar began to separate at the edges, wider and wider until it was a gaping laceration. With all of the blood covering his face he appeared almost unrecognizable.

Wormtail was flipping his attention back and forth from the boy to the cauldron which was now occupied by a tall and skeletal man rising from it.

"Robe me," said the man with the same high pitched and raspy voice as before. Wormtail, still crying out and cradling the new stump of an arm, scrambled quickly and dressed the man in the black robes that were used to swaddle the mutant child. He stepped out of the cauldron and stared into Harry's eyes. The pain from Harry's head and arm subsided enough that he could see around him. Harry stared right into the eyes of his nightmare. The one thing he always feared most of all. Lord Voldemort has returned.

A/N: There's chapter one! This is still very similar to what happened in the actual book so I'm using it as something to build off of. I will be updating very soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. All of that belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling. Some parts of this fic may be taken directly from the book. I by no means intend to plagiarize. Some things are just too good to make any changes to. In this chapter most of the quotes are taken word for word to keep the story line in check and keep this as canon as possible.

Chapter 2:

Voldemort tore his blood red eyes from Harry's emerald green and began to examine his new body. It felt different than possessing others like Quirinus Quirrell. This was his, all his. The sense of control he now possessed felt stronger than he has felt in years, surged through the thin boniness that is his new body. His spider-like fingers flexed and ran over his new hairless head. His eyes sparkled with glee in a way that made him only more menacing looking. The thick serpent circling Tom Riddle Senior's grave, made her way over to her master.

"Nagini," The Dark Lord hissed as he ran a long finger over the snake's head and looking deep into each others' eyes. This snake has love for her owner, no one would mistake it. Wormtail's obnoxious sobs broke their contact. Voldemort turned his head to look at the fool crying like a baby on the ground. This angered the Dark Lord immensely. _How dramatic_ he thought. His master had just returned, he should be crying with tears of joy! With his new body easily in control he used the new legs to stroll over to where the pathetic man lay curled in a fetal position, his black robes trailing behind him like a train.

"M-Master you promised," Wormtail choked through his tears.

"Hold out your arm," the high pitched voice commanded.

"Oh master… thank you master!" he held out the bleeding stump of the arm that is no longer there. Voldemort laughed a cold and sinister laugh.

"The other arm Wormtail," Voldemort cackled. Wormtail looked back at his master, lip quivering and with small watery eyes; but he obeyed his master and lifted the only good arm he now possessed. It was shaking violently. Under the sleeve that the skeletal man pushed up passed Wormtail's elbow was the large black skull with snake tattoo; exactly the one that Harry now has. Voldemort pulled the lengthy elm stick that was his wand and had been concealed in the pocket of his new robes, and roughly poked his wand to the mark upon his servant's limb. The skull and snake began to wriggle slightly. At this, Harry and Wormtail both shrieked in apparent agony.

"It is back," Voldemort whispered, "they will all have noticed it… and now, we shall see… now we shall know. How many will be brave enough to return when they feet it? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

It was almost as though they had forgotten that Harry was even there. Neither of the two, master nor servant, paid him any attention. They just stared blankly at the cloudy grey sky waiting for something to happen. Harry was still in terrible pain. The spider bite in the calf of his left leg created the sensation of acid biting its way through the flesh. The cords binding him were enough to cause anyone distress. They squeezed so tight around his thin torso that he could barely take in any breath. His bony back pressed unyielding against stone induced great discomfort as well. Bone against rock. The boy's left arm was oozing red to the point of almost covering the new tattoo which now resided there. Harry could barely see through the blood coating his face. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was the only element keeping him conscious. There were too many thoughts abiding his brain. Pain. Panic. Grief. Fear. Loneliness.

The air dropped a few degrees as wind whistled pass stirring some stray leaves. The clouds above moved apart constructing a circle in the sky above them. The silence that filled the air a moment previously had gone entirely as the whooshing of cloaks filled the air. Swooshing and billowing robes fell from the sky and landed between all of the gravestones. For a moment everything went black. There now stood about ten cloaked figures who were one by one dropping to their knees to kiss the hem of Lord Voldemort's robes.

"Welcome my Death Eaters," Voldemort said opening his arms in welcome as if they were all gathering for a picnic and he was the host, "Thirteen years it has been, and yet here you stand before me as if it were only yesterday," By now all of the cloaked figures, including a still sobbing Wormtail, were gathered in a large circle around their master about ten feet away from Harry, "I confess myself disappointed. There are still some of you missing, and no one here has ever tried to find me."

"I found you master!" Wormtail bowed so low he almost toppled over.

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve pain, Wormtail. Yet you helped return me to my body. Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me… and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers." Voldemort waved his wand along the length of Wormtail's arm stump. Now in place of the bloody and feeble arm was a chrome replica of a human arm. It shined like a mirror. Wormtail in shock and delight bent down to the dirt to pick up a pebble. He was able to turn the pebble to dust with just his forefinger and thumb.

"Thank you Master! Thank you," He bowed so low to the ground that he would probably have dirt on the tip of his nose when he stood back up.

"Harry Potter has kindly joined us this fine evening for my rebirthing party. How nice of him. Some might even call him my guest of honor. It is in fact to give credit to him that I am here this fine night. We must all show him our gratitude." Voldemort and his death eaters all rotated to look at the prone boy standing there helplessly.

Harry felt his stomach drop. With morbid curiosity he could not look away from the circle of men that were staring back at him. Lucius Malfoy was the only familiar face there which rose bile into Harry's throat. His heart pounded blood into his ears. There was no place to go and no place to hide. He was facing death and unable to fight for life. Every one of their faces bore into Harry's eyes with the same want and need. They all wanted him dead for defeating their master that Halloween night thirteen years previously.

"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall? You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen… I could not touch the boy," Voldemort hissed into the night addressing his death eaters while making his way over to the boy. Once he reached where the boy stood he faced him and raised a spidery forefinger to trace Harry's jaw ever so gently, "I can touch him now!" Harry's head exploded again. His piercing screams must have been heard by someone…anyone.

When the Dark Lord stepped back an inch, the unbearable torture stopped abruptly along with Harry's cries. "Astonishing what a drop of your blood will do, eh?" taunted Voldemort, "Wormtail!" he commanded his servant forward. Wormtail ran from the circle of death eaters and practically dove into a kneeling position before his master. "Untie him and give him back his wand. I wish to duel. "

Hesitating for only a moment to understand this shocking command, Wormtail slid the sliver dagger from his robes once more and crawled over to the bound boy. Standing up and with one forceful slash against the bonds, Harry was cut free. The ropes were not the only things that were cut however. The force, with which Wormtail used to slice the bonds, also slashed Harry's torso from the top of his right rib to the bottom of his left hipbone. He cried out for a quick moment in pain at his new bleeding injury. He dropped face first into the ground below since the ropes were no longer aiding his posture. Wormtail lifted him back off the ground by the neck of his now torn to shreds long sleeved Triwizard tournament jersey. Barely able to carry his own weight, Harry swayed where he stood. The foggy feeling in his head momentarily blocked the knowledge that he was in fact standing before the darkest wizard in the world and is about to duel him. Gravely injured already and only fourteen years old there was no way possible he could survive this.

"You've been taught how to duel I would presume, yes?" The Dark Lord asked mockingly, "Pick up your wand Potter!" Harry's wand was shoved unceremoniously into his uninjured left arm. He grasped it firmly knowing his wand is his last chance at life.

"First we bow to each other," Voldemort bowed with grace while looking on at Harry expecting him to do the same, "Come now Harry, Dumbledore would want you to demonstrate your manners. I said BOW!"

It felt as if an invisible hand pressed with all its might against Harry's spine causing him to bend forward into a bow which Harry recognized as the Imperious curse. _I will not let him toy with me._ Even with all the suffering he had gone through thus far this evening, Harry's stubbornness was not knocked from his personality. He was still Harry.

The only time in his life he had had a formal duel was in that joke of a duel club hosted by Professor Lockhart. All he learned was the disarming spell 'Expelliarmus'. What use would that be against the darkest wizard in history? There was no one to protect him this time. His mother had died for him at the hands of the same wizard he is now facing.

"I see we are a bit stubborn. Bow to death Harry, "the disturbing snake-like face laughed.

Before Harry could ready himself, Voldemort yelled, "Crucio!" The un-blockable torture curse hit Harry straight in the chest. He collapsed to the ground unable to sense anything neighboring him except for pain. White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin. His already sore and raw throat protested the screams they were forced to produce.

The curse ended as quickly as it had begun. Harry did not know if his body would be able to sustain that type of torture again. It was too much. Sweat beading on his forehead and convulsing from the shear pain and exhaustion, the adrenaline took over. Harry rose from where he lie on the dirt. _I'm going to die like my parents. Standing upright and with a fight._ At some point during the time he landed in this graveyard and now, he had accepted death.

Voldemort looked at him piteously, "I admire your courage Harry. Just like your father you are. I respect that. Since you are a bit amateur with magic, how about we try this the muggle way? Seize him!" With the Dark Lord's command, 4 death eaters approached Harry from behind. Two of the four clutched his upper arms with tensile strength and lowered him to the damp earth. Harry's wand was grabbed away by a fifth individual. When his back made contact with the ground, the other two death eaters secured his legs with their body weight. The petrified boy was now pinioned beneath four men; one at each arm positioned straight out from his body, and one at each leg straight down.

The Dark Lord knew he was not being fair; one fourteen year old boy being held down by four grown men while injured. But that just made it all the more fun to him. _The boy deserves to suffer and I am doing it the muggle way to be courteous. After all, life isn't fair._ Voldemort smiled his pointed teeth at these thoughts. He strolled over to where Harry lay, cloak trailing behind him. He circled a few times enjoying the view of the boy in such a vulnerable position. _Maybe this will be just as fun as magic._

Harry could do nothing. The weight of the death eaters pinning him down would be impossible to escape from. He would just have to endure whatever was about to happen _. No matter what I will not give in. He will not win._

Voldemort straddled Harry and knelt down so he was directly above him. He tilted the boy's chin up with the tip of an elongated finger. "Ah Harry, I just need a bit more playtime before I kill you. Just a little bit more, you have my word," Harry spat at the red eyes above him. The expression of deepest loathing that showed on the snake-like face alone could kill.

Without a minute to even think about his plan of action, the master called for his servant. Wormtail scurried over and handed Voldemort the silver dagger. With red eyes glaring directly into the innocent green, he lifted the boy's bloodied shirt exposing the slash on his abdomen that Wormtail designed earlier.

Dizziness and nausea flooded Harry's whole body. Short and shallow breaths made their way out of his chest but with no oxygen getting to the cluttered brain. He felt as if he was being choked.

The Dark Lord traced the line of the already formed cut with the tip of the blade causing it start bleeding again. The pain was sharp and worse than when the original cut when formed. _I will not show that I'm in pain._ Harry repeated this mantra over and over in his subconscious. Voldemort deepened the cut further and further by repeating the same gesture. Slowly digging the tip of the blade over the same spot until he finally got a reaction from the boy. Harry finally could not take it anymore, and cried out gasping for the breath he was unaware he was holding the entire time. By now blood was pooling in his navel and dripping over the sides of his belly.

"That's enough of that; let us move on shall we? Unfortunately the Cruciatus curse does not produce physical damage on the skin. I want whomever it is that finds your body to know how weak you are. I want them to know that Lord Voldemort did this." In a crisscross motion, the red eyed man sliced the dagger at nowhere in particular, but accomplished two more very deep cuts to the front of the boy's shoulder. "Let us move on from this muggle nonsense. I want to duel the great Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived about to die. I want to see the lights leave your eyes!"

At once all four death eaters stepped away from Harry leaving him alone on the ground. "Get up!" With a flick of his wand, Voldemort raised Harry back to his feet. Harry wanted this to be over with already. He was too weak. His wand was shoved into his hand again. "Ready to duel Mr. Potter?"

Almost like it was happening in slow motion, Voldemort cast his spell. By instinct so did Harry. He yelled, "Expelliarmus!" While Voldemort bellowed,

"Avada Kedavra!"

The jet from the Dark Lord's wand was as green as Harry's eyes and the jet of light from the boy's wand was as red at the man's whom was trying to kill him. The irony was not something Harry could think about at the moment. Each wand was violently vibrating, like an electric charge stinging through their arms. The vibration was difficult to handle for Harry with the exhaustion of his mind and body.

The beams of light met in the middle creating a golden ball. Nothing could have prepared either of the duelers when transparent, ghost-like people, and erupted one by one out of the reborn man's wand. Cedric was the first to emerge, followed by an old man and middle aged woman. Harry almost broke the connection out of shock when Lily and James Potter appeared.

"Bring my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents," Cedric requested.

"Son, we can linger a moment to give you time to get back to the porkey, but only a moment. Do you understand?" James Potter's voice sounded like music to Harry's ears. He nodded in understanding.

"Sweetheart you're ready. Let go!" Lily's voice sweet yet firm caught Harry's attention.

"One… two… three…" all of the ghost-like figured chanted. With all the strength Harry could muster and without thinking twice, he tore his wand upward to break the connection. Without looking back or remembering how injured he was, Harry ran for it. Every one of the death eaters were right on his tail shooting hexes left and right. The sky reflected all colors of the rainbow, flashing from the curses being cast.

When Harry reached to where Cedric's lifeless body laid, eyes still open slightly, he dove to grasp the dead boy's wrist. Once Harry's hand clasped around the cold wrist he called "Accio," the triwizard cup and only hope to get back to Hogwarts flew directly to him. The second metal touched skin, Harry felt the familiar pull behind his navel. He was safe. He was going back.

A/N: Well there's chapter 2. I will update asap! I know my tenses are all messed up. That has always been my downfall with writing. Please review, follow, and favorite!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. All of that belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling. Some parts of this fic may be taken directly from the book. I by no means intend to plagiarize. Some things are just too good to make any changes to

Chapter 3:

Frantic screaming filled the air. The Hogwarts quidditch pitch sank under the pressure from the hundreds of feet, all shapes and sizes, trampling to get closer to where the two boys lay. The entirety of the crowd expected one champion emerging from the maze with the Triwizard cup raised above their head, not two unconscious champions enveloped in a pool of blood.

By the time the ordeal that had just occurred come to pass, the half moon blared high in the dark sky reflecting light onto the dewy grass. Professor Dumbledore, whose eyes usually matched the twinkling dewy grass, rushed over with no such glitter in the baby blues. His true age showed when the line in the old face wrinkled in panic and worry.

"HARRY," he grabbed the bleeding boy, who was lying mostly face down, and turned him over so his back pressed against the ground. Harry still had his hand wrapped around Cedric's wrist. The gleaming Triwizard cup flew from his grasp when he hit the ground only moments before.

 _Floating._ The only way to describe his current physical and emotional status would be that he felt absolutely nothing. Drifting along on perhaps a raft or cloud of some sort, maybe in the water or sky he had no clue; nor did he care to know. It was nice here… until it wasn't.

The sensation of a bowling ball making contact with his skull would be a fair representation of his physical and mental bearings. _Cedric. Voldemort's back. Wormtail. The torture. Pain._ All of it hit him at once like a sack of bricks. He needed someone to know.

As if on cue, Harry heard Dumbledore's calls. The elderly professor bent over the boy blocking the moon from view. It felt safe for Harry to open his eyes a millimeter; even that hurt. Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Moody created a small gathering blocking Cedric's body from the view of the crowd. "Harry, you need to let go," Dumbledore said quietly to Harry referring to his hand so tightly gripped about the deceased's arm.

"That's my son! THAT'S MY BOY," Amos Diggory erupted from the crowd with his wife at seeing his son's body.

"Harry, there is nothing you can do now. You must let go," Professor Dumbledore reached for Harry's fingers to physically pry them off. _Certainly a boy this injured does not have a grip this strong_ , Albus thought as he failed to get the bony fingers off. With a thought of horror, he removed his wand from the pocket of his midnight blue robes and performed a spell. With a disturbing crack, and moan from the semi conscious Harry, the fingers were removed. Each of the five fingers must have broken around Cedric's wrist after the impact from the porkey.

With all his might, Harry tried to speak. _Dumbledore needs to know._ Stifling a moan he managed to say, "He's back," but it was so low that his plea most likely went unheard.

"Alastor," Dumbledore called to his old friend. "I need to console Mr. Diggory's parents. You need to get Madam Pomfrey here immediately because Harry is gravely injured. I do not want him moved until the crowd has dispersed." With those parting instructions, the headmaster turned to complete his duties. Harry meanwhile fell back into a comatose state.

A/N: This chapter is super short, I know. I feel that it has more of an impact that way. Chapter 4 will be here very quickly, I promise. Please favorite, follow, and review! I feel touched every time I see a new favorite and follow. More reviews would be amazing so I can improve my work, thus making a greater story for you all!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey everyone! I have not mentioned this yet, but I am disabled. These past few days have been a struggle to say the least, but I wanted to get this chapter out to you all. I am so sorry to say that this chapter is not my best work. I was torn between getting this chapter out as quickly as possible or writing it with the quality that you all deserve. I chose the former and hope you don't hate me for it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. All of that belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling. Some parts of this fic may be taken directly from the book. I by no means intend to plagiarize. Some things are just too good to make any changes to.

Chapter 4:

 _Clunk clunk clunk_ , The sound of wood on marble bouncing off of walls. The noise brought Harry half way out of his stupefied state. The haziness his head felt the way fog rolling through the streets looked. Even being in this state was not enough to preserve the fact that he was in fact being moved. Someone strong supported his upper body while the lower half dragged along behind them.

Once pale white, now dyed in red blood, his eyelids fluttered open enough to see where he was. This place looked familiar. Ancient brick walls, high ceilings, and flagstone floors. The boy's eyes changed from dull green to emerald as he recognized the atmosphere. They were moving up a staircase right off from the entrance hall.

Being in the historic castle, which he claimed as his home for the past four years, was enough to put Harry's mind at ease. He dared to look up to see who the forceful arms carrying him belonged to. He was a tad shocked that he was being moved in such a way and not by Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey. With all the might he could muster, Harry chanced a look. Mad-eye Moody, normal eye facing forward, was the culprit. The auror's false crystal blue glass eye fixed on the top of Harry's black mess of hair. They turned a sharp corner to get to the next corridor.

Moody's magical eye observed that the boy had stirred, "Don't worry Potter, we're going to my office," Moody growled. Still pulling Harry along, they made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower on the second floor. Patting the many pockets on his messy robes, he withdrew a key and shoved it into the rusty door lock.

With the flick of his wand, the room illuminated. He deposited the boy onto a nearby wooden chair. Even with all of the candles lit, the room was rather dark. It looked as if neither he nor any house elves had ever stepped in the room to tidy up. Right in front of the chair upon where Harry now sat, was Professor Moody's desk. He only had been there once before when the professor asked Harry what he was going to do about the Hungarian Horntail. That felt like ages ago, Harry felt like he had aged one hundred years tonight.

Atop the large wooden desk, smoke drifted across the round Foe glass. The eyes of Moody's enemies glaring through. Harry's eyes, now dull again, stared without seeing into the Foe glass. It was something else to pay attention to. Reality was unkind at the moment.

The older man had left the room into what seemed to be his chambers through a connecting door to the right. At some point, Moody made his way over to the boy whom was soaked in his own gore. Crouching down directly in front of him to be at eye level, he spoke,

"You alright, Potter? Does it hurt, that?" He pointed with his chin to the lightning bolt scar that was not much of a lightning bolt anymore; more of a gaping hole in his head. Harry was still looking straight ahead, no life in the green eyes. He managed a miniscule nod to answer his professor's question. Moody's hands rested on the boy's thighs to steady himself, both eyes boring straight into his. The murky enemies' eyes floating around the edges of the Foe glass were becoming whiter and whiter.

"The Dark Lord returned?" It took a moment for that question to sink in. Flashbacks of the past few hours zipped behind his eyes. _Cedric. Voldemort. Death Eaters. Pain, so much pain._

Harry finally looked into the up into the eye that stared at him. _How did he know that?_ Moody saw the confusion on Harry's face and answered the unasked question. "I heard you telling Dumbledore. Being an auror for so long has magnified my senses. I can hear things no one else can." Harry nodded, not wanting to speak.

"Were there others? In the graveyard, were there Death Eaters?" Moody sounded almost hysterical now. He gripped Harry's legs with more force until they began shaking. The two of them now vibrating in sync. The professor's eyes were wide in panic and curiosity.

It hit Harry a moment later that he never mentioned the graveyard to him, or Dumbledore even. With his throat feeling like he swallowed a porcupine, he managed, " I don't think I said anything about a graveyard, professor."

The boy was too smart for his own good. Despite the damage that had been afflicted upon him, he was able to catch that ruddy detail. Harry became as alert as he was while he had been running through the maze; the foe glass's reflection, even whiter now, dancing in his eyes.

"Did he forgive them? Did he forgive the loathsome scum?" The rough older man was now shaking and smiling in the most disturbing way. He seemed frantic, convulsing with overrun emotion.

Harry did not answer. Although cornered in his seat, he attempted to stand and back away from the madman. _Something isn't right._

Moving closer to Harry's reddened face; he was practically bent over him in his seat so he would not be able to back away anymore. "I asked you whether he forgave the vermin who wouldn't even brave Azkaban for him like I did!" Moody was shouting now. Harry was not sure how much longer he could hold on. He was running on pure adrenaline now.

Just as the professor began to remove his wand from his robe pocket, multiple things happened at once. The Foe glass illuminated the office with dazzling silver, a voice bellowed "Reducto," and the oak entrance blasted off its hinges. Dumbledore, Mcgonagall, and Snape now stood in the door's place. The explosion blew Moody off of Harry whose false burst of energy began to fail. His eyelids began to weigh more and more.

Papers were now strewn everywhere. In place of the door in which the three professors arrived, lay only remnants of splinters. The body that flew backward from the detonation, crashed on top of the large desk. When Dumbledore made his way over to look at the prone figure on the desk, realization dawn on his face.

"What is it, Albus?" Snape asked eyeing the look on the man's face.

"This is not Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore, eyes unmoving, "Minerva, please take control of the situation for now. Mr. Potter is in need of care immediately," With one final look of confusion, shock, and awe, Dumbledore turned to face his colleagues and Harry whom appeared to be unable to keep himself awake, "Severus, please accompany me."

Neither professor looked back. They loaded Harry on to a conjured stretcher, and made their way to the hospital wing.

A/N: I promise better and longer writing for the future. All I can hope for is forgiveness. Finally next chapter Harry will receive the care that he has been denied for far too long. Please favorite, follow, and review! Reviews are very helpful for me to better my writing.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. All of that belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling. Some parts of this fic may be taken directly from the book. I by no means intend to plagiarize. Some things are just too good to make any changes to.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who followed, favorite, or reviewed! Every time I see a new email I giggle with delight :) Well here is chapter 5.

Chapter 5:

Their footsteps echoed off the ancient walls of the castle. Both of the men remained silent while Professor Dumbledore led the way. Within one hour everything had changed. The halls were eerily empty and held no sound. All students were instructed to return to their dormitories, while the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang went back to their carriage and ship. Headmaster Karkahoff fled the scene when his own dark mark burned upon his arm, now leaving the students of Durmstrang abandoned at Hogwarts.

Even with Snape being so deep in thought, he became aware that they did not ascend the staircase that would normally lead them to the hospital wing. Dumbledore, being the old and wise man that he is, sensed the slight pause that his young friend made.

"We will not be taking Harry to the hospital wing for now, Severus. I have a feeling we will not have much privacy there," the temperate dropped slightly as they made their way toward the dungeons. The sconces became less and less the further they went making the atmosphere even less inviting than the low temperature. Snape could see where this was going now, but he dare not question the man's decision at this moment.

Through a maze of dimly lit corridors, they finally made it to an aged oak door decorated with a serpent doorknocker. The potions master's presence unlocked any wards protecting his private quarters. Stepping through the threshold, a fire erupted in the grate to the right, lighting the room in a warm orange glow. The light gave away book- lined walls, a velvet red sofa, and a door straight ahead. Dumbledore floated the stretcher over to the door which opened with a flick of his wand. Ironically, Snape's quarters resembled the Gryffindor common room.

Snape followed the headmaster and ill boy into his personal potions lab. Already, Dumbledore conjured a clean white bed identical to one someone would find in the school's infirmary. Severus quickened his step to help the older man, who looked to be struggling, lower the boy from the stretcher to the bed. Even with time not exactly on Albus's side, Snape never really thought of him as an old man. His physical strength was usually more capable than lifting a small fourteen year old. All of the creases in the man's face must have deepened since the sun has gone down. The blue eyes were not sparkling in their usual way; in fact they appeared darker.

"I must go to the hospital wing to retrieve Madam Pomfrey. Her expertise is needed and I am sure she must be bombarded with questions about Harry's whereabouts as we speak," all of this was said with the headmaster's back to Snape. Dumbledore pivoted to face him and rested his weathered hands upon each shoulder, "Severus, I need you to examine Harry and start to give him potions. I know your relationship with him is less than friendly, but this is much more important than that. Please," he pleaded, " I will be back shortly."

Professor Dumbledore patted Snape on the back and left without a second look, leaving him with his least favorite student. With a lip curling sneer, he approached the bed. Guiltily, Snape enjoyed looking down on the boy while he was so vulnerable. Not even knowing where to start because everywhere was a bloody mess, he decided to rid of the blood so he could at least see what he's working with.

With a flick of his wand, the professor uttered, "scorgify," under his breath. The mud and debris left Harry's shirt and pants but the blood remained. His clothing looked as if they were freshly laundered, although the rips and tears stayed in place. Having the clothes cleaned did help the professor see where the boy was still bleeding.

Snape moved around his lab with ease, grabbing the necessary potions off the shelves. A lab table, considerate in size, stood directly in the middle of the room. Tall ceilings and the lack of a fireplace gave the feeling of less warmth than the parlor on the other side of the door. Instead of books lining the walls, vials and beakers of all shapes and sizes made the scene. Somehow the room looked bright and modern as if owned by a wealthy muggle.

Setting at least five potions on the bedside table, he measured out some blood replenishing potion into a smaller vial. Since Harry was clearly unconscious and not awaking at the moment, Snape pried his mouth open to administer the potion. Harry's skin felt cold against his professor's. The liquid was dropped all at once into his mouth. Snape turned away when he became satisfied that the potion was consumed. He repeated the same actions of measuring out the other potions into smaller bottles when he realized Harry in fact did not swallow. The blood replenisher dribbled out of the corners of his pale chapped lips.

Using a diagnostic spell, a spare bit of parchment revealed that Harry's esophagus ruptured rendering him unable to swallow. With a grunt of annoyance and thoughts of how the idiot boy could cause him displeasure even while unconscious, Snape walked across to the other side of the room. Under the shelves of potions ingredients, a drawer revealed a variety of muggle medical supplies. The professor picked out a syringe easily. The supplies contained in the drawer were most likely never touched, unless Snape put an organizing charm on the bin.

The needle of the sterilized syringe extracted the deep red potion out of the vial from Harry's bedside table. Snape rolled up the torn sleeve of Harry's shirt to find a vein, but stopped when what he saw made his blood run cold. Even through the blood coating, the angry black dark mark was visible and unmistakable since it was identical to the professor's own. Professor Snape was never one to outright show emotion, but his face now betrayed him. A bead of sweat developed on his upper lip, while the hand holding the syringe shook. _He's back._

Shaking away the bombshell of information, he was able to find a vein in the crook of Harry's elbow to insert the needle. Immediately, a slight bit of pink rose to the boy's cheeks. Even with the potion working, blood seeped just as steadily through the other wounds. Picking up his wand from the table, he pointed it at Harry's burst open scar. At the moment, his head seemed to be the worst visible injury.

Mumbling every healing spell the professor had ever heard of, and still seeing no improvement, Snape hissed, "stubborn as ever, Potter," thankfully not a moment later the headmaster and Madam Pomfrey cantered through the door.

"Out of my way Severus!" upon seeing the state of Harry's well being, she nearly knocked over both men, "I'll need you to brew several potions."

Snape gladly retreated to the cauldron on his lab table. In a secret yet impressive way that only a spy could accomplish, he whispered, "there is something you must know," into Dumbledore's ear. While Madam Pomfrey frantically went to work casting spells, and shouting for potions, the two men made their way over to Snape's lab table. Snape began concocting a brew that the woman screamed for. "Potter has the dark mark," there was no easy way to break the news or disclose it lightly. Dumbledore's already lined face, creased further but made no other indication that he felt uneasy.

"Harry must remain here until he is stable… or if he'll ever be stable," a solemn expression showed on his face at those words. It bothered Snape how much Harry meant to the headmaster, "then he must be moved. I have a job for you, Severus. Voldemort has returned," Snape already knew what the headmaster was getting at. The information that the Dark Lord returned did not even give him much of a shock. After seeing the black skull and snake branding on the boy's arm, he figured that much was true. He must return to his old master and play spy again. Although the thought of returning to Voldemort's side was less than appealing, being a spy could greatly help the war that would most likely come in the near future, "Also Severus, bear in mind that Sirius Black is on his way," Snape tried to interrupt but ceased when a weathered hand held itself in front of his face, "He will come to see Harry and then reinstate the Order at a new headquarter location," Snape did not even attempt to hide his sneer, "I will need you two to be on your best behavior," some of the usual twinkle in Professor Dumbledore's eyes returned along with a small smile playing on his lips.

Snape poured the potion from the steaming cauldron with a ladle into a small vial. "Will you hurry up? I need that!" Madam Pomfrey looked as frazzled as ever with little bits of hair frizzing out from her usually tight bun. She ripped the bottle from the professor's hand with unexpected force.

Within the time when Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey arrived at Snape's private lab, and the quiet conversation they shared by the table, the matron was able to stem most of the bleeding and make Harry look almost recognizable again. The scar on his head still remained crater-like but the blood from his face had been removed. His raven hair now lay even starker against his almost translucent, blue, pale skin. Madam Pomfrey also changed the boy out of the blood soaked Triwizard jersey and jeans. She did not mention the Dark Mark on his arm that she need to have noticed by now. It was as if there were an unspoken communication between herself and Dumbledore not to mention the tattoo.

"What is his condition, Poppy?" all three stared down at the motionless boy, afraid to hear the prognosis.

"Well he's stable for now but nowhere near out of the woods yet," she spoke quickly and firmly as if damning students from going anywhere near Harry, "most of these injuries were made by dark magic that I cannot do anything about," her voice took a less harsh tone, "his scar literally burst open as you can see. That must be watched constantly for infection. And Severus, I see you used a muggle needle to administer a potion."

"Yes, he seemed unable to swallow, so the diagnostic spell I preformed revealed a ruptured esophagus," Snape answered with no pity in his voice, just pure professionalism.

Madam Pomfrey continued nodding although her eyes portrayed hopelessness. She continued with her diagnoses, "Visibly there are obvious cuts and bruises that will fade in time. I found an acromantula bite on his leg as well. The poison travelled quite far through his veins but shouldn't cause any lasting damage. Thank goodness there are antidotes for those blasted things," for a moment she looked careless as if she were treating another average quidditch injury or potion burn. Her face darkened when she looked back at Harry, "Albus, I'm sure you already saw the arm," she looked hesitantly at the professor.

"Indeed I did, Poppy," Dumbledore had bags underneath his unnaturally flat eyes. The drawn look was not becoming of the usually joyous man, "it must be hidden until the right time. It would be a great tool to use to prove to the ministry that Voldemort has indeed returned, but it can also cause something of a disaster. The last thing Harry needs is to be thrown into Azkaban."

After a thoughtful pause, Madam Pomfrey continued to name Harry's ailments, "I found a rather deep cut on his stomach," Dumbledore moved closer to the bed to get a better look. The gash looked just as angry and bloody as before, "I tried every spell and potion in the book, but it will not heal. I'll keep an eye out for infection in that as well," Poppy sighed deeply, "for now those are the injuries that I can see but I'm sure there is internal damage as well. I'll run some more diagnostic spells." She then began to bandage his head, arm, and abdomen.

"That'll be all for now Poppy. You may return to the infirmary so no suspicion is raised. Harry will be in good hands here for tonight," Snape nearly growled at Dumbledore for self inviting Potter to stay in his private quarters; unconscious or not, he did not want him there.

A/N: This story isn't going exactly where I thought it would, so in the next chapter I'll steer it back to my original plotline. Please favorite, follow, and review! As a disabled person, I find it very difficult to find motivation to write, but the reviews I've so far received have given me the encouragement, and for that I am eternally grateful.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. All of that belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling. Some parts of this fic may be taken directly from the book. I by no means intend to plagiarize. Some things are just too good to make any changes to.

A/N: Thank you all so much if you've favorite, followed, reviewed, or continued on this journey with me. It means so much! For all of those who have asked about my disability, it is a rare disease called AAG. I do not want pity, I just want to share my story with you all and hope you enjoy what I create. Without further ado, here is chapter 6.

Chapter 6:

The moon cast light onto the sterile bedspread. The dungeon had no actual windows, being underground, but the potions master charmed one in the lab to show the time of day just in case Harry were to wake up. The professor was being oddly kind, though he would make sure no one would ever live to see it.

Through the night so far, Snape had delivered all necessary potions into Harry's vein, brewed up some more, and stemmed any spontaneous bleeding from his injuries. _I'm turning into the bloody school matron,_ Snape thought to himself as he put pressure onto the open wound of the boy's arm which would spontaneously bleed at its own will. If anyone ever witnessed his caregiving to the bloody Boy Who Lived, he would never live it down. He repeated over and over to himself that his only job is to keep the boy alive whether he despised him or not.

An ornate wrought iron clocked chimed across the room above the shelves where the potion vials were, showing it to be three o' clock in the morning. It felt like a century since it had all happened, but in reality it had only been around 10 hours. With Harry still comatose no one yet knew what exactly took place. The only information floating through the air was that Lord Voldemort had returned and Cedric Diggory is dead.

The dark mark still burned fiercely on Snape's own arm keeping him awake. Brewing the potions and essentially _caring_ for Potter was enough to keep his mind off the pain, but now it all had been completed. Every possible healing spell and pain potion that Severus Snape knew how to brew, sat on the lab table ready for use, the place was spotless after scrubbing it down by hand, and Harry was not in any immediate danger. Professor Snape gave the room another once over before retiring to the parlor on the other side of the door.

The cozy living area looked no different than it had before as if no time had passed and no dark lord had returned. The lack of windows kept the room dark, illuminated only by the sizable fireplace in front of the velvet sofa and some candles here and there casting a hazy glow. He looked dazedly around the room as if looking for a clue as to if anything new had taken place. _Has anyone been here? Are there any letters to be read?_ With everything being exactly where it was previously, the tired potions master strolled over to the couch and practically fell into it basking in the roaring embers. He did not realize until now, that he had not sat down in hours.

Snape felt as if his eyelids were being forcibly pulled closed in the most pleasant way possible, so he let the force carry out the job. He therefore did not notice the fireplace spitting small bursts of flames and the crackling embers evolving into the face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Severus," Albus called to the man whose head lolled back. Snape jumped up, startled at the sound of his name.

It took a minute to realize where he was when he realized there was a head in his fireplace, "Headmaster," he answered to the man in the flames. Snape was secretly happy to finally have someone else's conscious company, but would have enjoyed sleep all the same. Although most of the time he preferred to keep to himself, today he did not want to be kept in the dark about any news.

"Sirius Black is here and will not hear reason, he-," Dumbledore was interrupted as a massive black dog flooed into the hearth of the fireplace spewing ashes and debris all over the flagstone floor.

"You!" Snape hissed at the man who impressively transformed from the wolf- sized dog.

"Out of my way, Snivellus," Sirius pushed past Snape and began to circle the room in a panic obviously looking for his godson.

Bubbling anger welled up inside the potions master ready to boil over at the intrusion. _How dare he._ He had not seen Sirius Black since last year and hoped to never to see him again, yet here he is storming through his private quarters. Snape looked over to Dumbledore in the fire only to see that it was empty. Not a moment later did the headmaster floo through to stand there in the flesh.

"Severus, Sirius, calm down. Harry is right through this door," Dumbledore motioned if hand at the entrance to the lab and Sirius bolted. Snape made to follow but Albus laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him, "let us be mature about this," Albus gave a small smile, his eyes twinkling kindly.

Sirius ran to the only bed in the room. At the sight of Harry's physical mayhem, the horror and panic that encased Sirius's face bestowed the look that twelve years in Azkaban gave him all over again. Any new blood that had not yet been cleaned, sat crusted on his pale skin, and the darkness under his eyes a stark contrast. The hands that were paws only moments ago, gently stroked through Harry's messy mop of hair as he shook his head in disbelief. _Oh Harry, what happened to you?_

"Unless you wish to cause him more bodily harm, I suggest you refrain from touching him," Snape sneered with a little smirk that suggested he would not mind if Sirius continued.

Either because of Albus's talent of prediction, or the fact that he had witnessed Severus and Sirius in the same room too many times, he moved swiftly in front of the ex-con who turned from his place at Harry's bedside to get into Snape's face.

"Please boys. Let us speak as the full grown adults that we are," Dumbledore was suppressing a small laugh at men still acting like school children.

"What happened to him?" Sirius looked into the headmasters eyes with such turmoil.

Dumbledore's amused expression instantly changed to one of concern, "We do not know the details of everything that has taken place last night. I can tell you what I know so far and Severus can tell you what you need to know about Harry's physical condition."

"He's been healing Harry?" Sirius nearly screamed in bewilderment while pointing a finger at the bat-like potions professor who was now leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, very Sirius-like. Snape pushed off of the wall with his back and glided gracefully nearer to the men standing by the bed.

"Yes I have, Black, and if you would like me to continue to do so I would not insult my abilities if I were you," they were once again moving closer and closer to each other when Dumbledore cast a shield between them.

"Let us do this calmly please. Severus, please tell us the damage you have found on young Harry," Dumbledore conjured up three downy armchairs and cocoa near the foot of Harry's bed and invited them to sit.

Snape began first, telling both men of his findings. By the end of the long list of casualties, Sirius had his head in his hands and was left speechless. Dumbledore continued with everything _he_ knew, which was news to both Sirius and Snape. He rehashed everything about the imposter Moody and Barty Crouch Junior and how Minister Fudge idiotically let the dementors kiss him.

"Before they kissed him, we got a full confession with the help of veritaserum and multiple witnesses present. Unfortunately, Cornelius was not there and will not believe that Voldemort has returned. Sirius, I must ask you to begin collecting Order of the Phoenix members yet again," he turned his head toward the distraught animagus whose head was still in his hands, eyes watering.

Sirius's watery eyes dried up at once only to be replaced by ones of heated rage, "I'm not leaving him, Dumbledore," he thrust his finger toward the bed.

Up until this moment, no one had looked towards Harry's direction for quite a while so they did not realize that he lay there with his eyes open. The normally striking green eyes showed dull and grey, staring straight ahead without seeing. Although he seemed to be conscious, he did not make any motions to prove it.

It took a moment of shock for Sirius to realize that his godson had awoken. The red blotches of rage receded back from whence they came, and replaced with an expression of apprehension, "Harry, oh Merlin!" Sirius nearly jumped on top of the boy. Harry's dull stare moved slightly to meet his godfather's causing Sirius to nearly break into tears, "How ya doing kiddo?" Ignoring Snape's previous orders about touching him, he stroked the messy raven hair again.

Snape strolled over to the sappy reunion to check over the Gryffindor. Harry moved his mouth slightly as if to talk until Snape held a hand up to stop him, "you would be an imbecile if you were to try and talk now, Potter," he smirked to himself. _Reprimanding the boy right in front in front of Black._ He followed up with a few diagnostic spells which showed no changes to his condition.

Harry did not even look at his professor or headmaster. His gaze was fixated directly into Sirius's eyes, as if he did not believe that the man actually stood before him. His brain felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, everything was so fuzzy and confusing. It took a few solid minutes to grasp the fact that Sirius Black, his godfather and father's best friend, stood right in reach.

Harry tried and failed to say Sirius's name, the only sound he was able to produce was a raspy groan followed by a wince of pain and a gasp. At the sight of Harry's apparent discomfort, Sirius jumped, "Snape, get him something! He's in pain."

"Obviously he's in pain, he looks as if he was stomped on by a drunken troll. Idiot boy, I told you not to speak," Snape walked over to his lab table and grabbed a bottle with a rich purple liquid in it. He filled the syringe from the nightstand with the potion and rolled up Harry's sleeve.

"What are you doing with that? Don't you dare stick that into his skin, that's what muggles do," Sirius looked mortified as Snape injected the potion. The instant relief that showed on Harry's face from the pain potion was enough to shut Sirius up. Within moments he was back to sleep again.

Dumbledore's voice broke the momentary silence after they all watched Harry drift off, "He must be moved to a safer place. Normally, Hogwarts would be the best option but obviously the events of last night have proven that this is not the case. When will he be stable enough to be moved, Severus?"

"Only time will tell, but I would estimate about a fortnight," Although, Snape would try his damndest to make it sooner. He did not want Potter living in his private quarters for two weeks, comatose or not.

"When that time comes, how does number 12 Grimmauld Place sound as a safe headquarters, Sirius?"

Hearing the name alone of his childhood home address sent shivers down his spine. Looking at Harry, small and broken in the bed, erased all selfish feelings about the house from his mind, "That would be fine."

A/N: I promise there will be more Harry in the next chapter, maybe even some Ron and Hermione! I'll try to update soon. Please review, follow, and favorite!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

A/N: I'm so very sorry for the delay. Life has been hectic lately and unfortunately writing was put on the back burner. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. All of that belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling. Some parts of this fic may be taken directly from the book. I by no means intend to plagiarize. Some things are just too good to make any changes to.

It was as if the weather knew of Lord Voldemort's return. Even with summer approaching, the temperature dropped and leaves browned. Summer seemed to no longer exist, taking the energy Hogwarts usually had with it. Small footsteps against stone trampling along were the only sound heard in the corridors. The silence became a way of unspoken communication and understanding to the students.

A few days after the third task, every student and member of the staff, including the house elves, gathered in a no longer recognizable great hall. Its warm embrace and expected comfort shifted into iciness that seeped into their bones as if one hundred dementors were waiting for innocent childrens' memories to eat. The ceiling showed the smoky clouds identical to the ones floating across the outside sky. The customary house flags in red, blue, yellow, and green were changed to pitch ebony. Bobbing up and down around the black flags were the routine candles, but much more dim as if they were grieving in like manner.

Professor Dumbledore stood before the students and staff looking grave. His blue eyes held no sparkle, and expression showed no shine. Never had any of the students ever see their cheerful headmaster draped in black robes the way he stood at that moment.

He spoke only with truth but withheld most gory details. At the mention of Lord Voldemort's name and the news of his return, audible gasps echoed throughout the room. Sobs and tears were plentiful at the many mentions of Cedric. Professor Dumbledore mentioned Harry sparsely and included his name along with Cedric's for the toast at the end of his speech, but did not want to raise even more questions about where the Boy Who Lived resided at the moment. The only information included was that he was obviously injured and under great stress.

Without delay, rumors spread like wildfire. Evidently, most of the nastier ones had come about by the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy with his idiotic cronies used all of their energy to make sure everyone knew that they believed Harry killed Cedric and was already locked up in Azkaban. Despite how absurd that accusation was, it swam though the air violently.

Ron and Hermione hardly talked at all. Neither one of them behaved in a way that remotely resembled their usual selves. After the third task, the entire Weasley clan and Hermione went on a rampage search for Harry. Molly was an inch away from being put in a body bind by Madam Pomfrey when she was harassing her for information on Harry's whereabouts. They all gave up a day later when they obviously were not going to pry any information from anyone.

Since then, Ron locked himself in the boy's dormitory and refused to come out even for food. Hermione spent about half the time shut in her own dormitory or in Ron's with him. The two of them would sit in silence with equal looks of loss and misery. One of the only times Ron spoke, he declared that he would not be returning to lessons when they resumed a week later. Hermione turned her tear stained face to his, nodded and said, "me neither."

There would be no way possible Hermione could concentrate on school work at a time like this. Normally, books were her only escape, but not until she at least knew where Harry was. Ron's came across as anger. The same pouty scowl, which he usually reserved for times when he was forced to wear his brother's hand-me-downs, sat still on his face. His blue eyes betrayed the sight of rage by instead looking absolutely heartbroken. Hermione figured that Ron's face made a compromise. The balance of a grimace with sad eyes allowed him not to cry.

None of the professors had come to seek them out and force them to return to lessons. The only contact was from Professor Mcgonagall via note on parchment given to them by Neville. A fortnight after the third task, after the last time they've seen their best friend, and after Lord Voldemort returned to his body, a very frightened Neville slipped quietly through the door of the boy's dormitory. He tried his best not to make too much sound, but just enough so Ron and Hermione would not get startled at this normally noiseless time of the day.

"Hey," Neville croaked sheepishly. He's been working up the courage to talk to them the whole way from Mcgonagall's office. They've spoken sporadically the past couple of weeks, but not more than a word or two. Even though he was exceptionally devastated and confused about Harry's location as well, he wanted to give them their privacy.

Ron was staring straight ahead but not into Neville's eyes. Hermione was the one that answered, "oh hello Neville," she answered in her usual sweet voice but it sounded unusually distant. Neville carefully passed the professor's note over to her like he was feeding a shy animal at the zoo.

"Professor Mcgonagall asked me to give this to the two of you," Neville said in a strangled voice, trying to act very calm but showing his pity at the same time. Hermione looked down at the folded parchment. Hesitation glistened in her eyes. Neville looked at the both of them sitting side by side on Ron's bed, unsure if he should stay or leave. Listening to his instincts, he left them be without another word.

 _Dear Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley,_

 _Please report to the headmaster's office at 8 o'clock_

 _this evening. It may be best to slip out of your common_

 _room unnoticed. The password is Acid Pops._

 _Kind Regards,_

 _Professor M. Mcgonagall_

 _A/N:_ This is so super super short I know! I am so sorry. I'm a terrible person for making you wait this long and now giving you a #$! #$% chapter. I was going to make this longer but then it would take longer to put up and I wanted to give you a little something since I've been absent for so long. Please don't hate me. I promise there is more to come and the plot will get better.


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